


Recognition

by MedeaWasRight



Series: Black soul, red blood [1]
Category: Mo Dao Zu Shi, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)
Genre: Begging, How did Jin Guangyao convince Xue Yang to work for the Jin Clan, Interrogation, M/M, Smut, They both think it's them., They're both just awful people, control-kink, m/m - Freeform, possible dubcon, sex as interrogation, the untamed - Freeform, who's in control, xueyao/yaoxue - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:27:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25067644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedeaWasRight/pseuds/MedeaWasRight
Summary: How did Jin Guangyao convince Xue Yang to work for the Jin sect when all ordinary methods of interrogation have failed?Jin Guangyao smiled and shook his head. ‘I can think of nothing that would bring me greater sadness than ruining you,’ he breathed, not entirely honestly. ‘You are an artist with these hands and you apply yourself with a single-minded intensity that I enjoy. But I do need you to understand your position here.’
Series: Black soul, red blood [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815511
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31





	1. Recognition

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to MsNyx for the beta!

Jin Guanguao carefully folded the heavy brocade of his golden outer robes and placed it on the bench. Beneath, and uncharacteristically, he wore all black – simple linen inner robe, shirt and trousers. Then he removed his boots and socks and placed them neatly beneath the bench. Last, he removed his tall hat, exposing his unadorned topknot. 

Out of his customary attire, he seemed a very different person – and if one looked into his eyes at this moment, irrespective of his clothing, there wasn’t a person alive who would have recognised the man staring back. 

And then it was gone, locked away behind high, dark walls and a gentle, dimpled smile. 

Jin Guangyao unlocked the next door and stepped from the clean, elegant lines of the room into one rough and unfinished and dank. It was cold, and a faint whiff of effluent tainted the air. The floor sloped gently down to a drain in one corner – the source of most of the smell – and was unfurnished but for a wide, low bed with a thin, stained mattress, and the man lying upon it. The room was chill, yet he, too, wore only his inner shirt and trousers, his feet bare. 

The man slept. Jin Guangyao believed that as much as he believed that his father had taken him into the Jin Sect because of a deep and abiding love for him. Still, all of life was a grand game, and he was willing to play this one to its conclusion. The rewards had the promise of being great. The breakers had been fitted to the man’s hands, forcing them to lie flat, fingers splayed, in the cold metal confines, and Jin Guangyao could see the marks of struggle the guards had left imprinted on his neck and which no doubt decorated his chest and back. The man lay on his side, hunched just a little around the pain. Enough to elicit sympathy? How amusing. His face was undamaged, as requested, and almost serene in his pretence at sleep. Lips softly parted, breath stirring a strand of long, black hair that had escaped its binding. 

‘It’s time to wake up,’ Jin Guangyao said softly. No response. He smiled again and padded closer, repeated the words. Still nothing. Shaking his head in amusement, he walked to the edge of the bed and stared down at the figure. There were so many choices. The prisoner had laughed through his initial questioning, had flirted openly and blatantly, had begged for more when a guard beat him. Of course the Jin Sect had washed its collective hands of him and deposited him in Jin Guangyao’s care; they were all of them incapable of dealing with someone like this. 

_Give him to the son of a whore. They’ll probably have a lot in common._

Jin Zixun’s words returned to echo through his mind and Jin Guangyao’s smile frayed around the edges, just for a second. In that instant, the prisoner’s eyes opened and met his; a feral grin leapt to his face. The man stretched luxuriously, as if waking from a restful sleep, completely ignoring the breakers on his hands and allowing his untied shirt to slip. As expected, his stomach was a welter of purple bruises. 

‘I’d get up to greet you properly, but you know, I don’t want to,’ Xue Yang said. He clattered one of the breakers against the wall behind the bed and then stared at it, as if only just remembering it was there. He sat up and swung his legs down, then shook both hands experimentally. ‘How exactly am I supposed to piss with these on?’ he asked. 

Jin Guangyao smiled. ‘Carefully,’ he said, and Xue Yang laughed in appreciation. 

‘Carefully,’ he repeated to himself. ‘Everything you do is careful, isn’t it, Meng Yao?’ 

Jin Guangyao didn’t react; he never reacted. ‘Do you know why you’re here?’ he asked, as he always did.

‘Because I’m pretty,’ Xue Yang said, ‘and your whore-loving father enjoys collecting pretty things. It must be the only reason he collected you after all this time. You have grown into quite the beauty.’ He slid his bare foot up the outside of Jin Guangyao’s calf. 

Jin Guangyao’s dimples deepened. ‘Every day I ask this question, and every day you have a different answer. Which of them is true?’ 

Xue Yang heaved a sigh and leant back on his caged hands. He let his knees splay and stared up coquettishly. ‘You’re saying I’m not pretty, then? Aiyah, Meng Yao, you wound me.’

Jin Guangyao cocked an eyebrow. ‘Well, you are a prisoner. That is somewhat the whole point,’ he murmured and Xue Yang burst into laughter, clapping the breakers together in a loud, echoing cacophony. 

He looked at them again. ‘What’s the point of these things?’ he demanded, suddenly petulant. 

‘Oh, how remiss of me. Here, let me explain,’ Jin Guangyao said, and knelt between Xue Yang’s parted thighs. Xue Yang’s eyebrows raised and his wolfish smile returned, wider and more brilliant. He shifted, hooking one foot lightly around the back of Jin Guangyao’s thigh, and presented his right hand to him. Jin Guangyao took it in both of his. The breaker was a flat piece of metal lying flush against the palm. Above the fingers, two thick bands of metal stretched, one at the second line of knuckles, one at the third. There was a small slot in the piece that joined the bands to the palm-plate, and Jin Guangyao took a small key from a chain around his neck and fitted it into the band across the middle of his fingers. 

‘Here we go,’ he said, and began to twist. The band began to tighten. ‘Do you remember how it felt, when that cart went over your hand?’ he asked conversationally and Xue Yang, who’d been grinning and tugging playfully at Jin Guangyao’s grip, went very still. 

‘What?’ 

‘The cart that shattered your left hand. The one that crushed that little gloved finger of yours to powder, that crippled you? The one that caused you to slaughter the entire Chang Clan – well done, by the way. I applaud your thoroughness. You don’t remember how it felt?’ 

Jin Guangyao looked up into Xue Yang’s eyes and tightened the band some more. On its underside, centred over each knuckle, was a thick, blunt extrusion of metal. Each twist of the key forced it more tightly against the joint. ‘Even now, you can’t remember?’ he asked softly, and the next twist was harder, requiring more effort to force the breakers into flesh and bone. 

Jin Guangyao’s smile was gentle as Xue Yang flinched and tried to tear his hand away. His eyes were wide, tinged with just the slightest bit of panic. It made him even lovelier, and though the request for an unmarked face had been to facilitate his ability to talk, Jin Guangyao found he enjoyed just looking at those high cheekbones and full lips, the black, magnetic eyes above. 

‘Did you think, all those years ago, that you’d be crippled for life? Did you worry you’d be useless, incapable of achieving anything, or even then, did you know you were destined for greatness? As long as you had nine working fingers, that is.’ 

The screw tightened further and Xue Yang gasped and made a determined effort to rip his hand away. When his other hand, clumsy but covered in metal, came around in a slap, Jin Guangyao launched himself up off his knees, twisting the wrist painfully. His free hand locked around Xue Yang’s neck and he slammed him backwards into the wall. One knee on the bed between Xue Yang’s thighs, he tightened his grip, constricting windpipe and blood flow. 

‘Now, now, there’s no need for that,’ he said gently. ‘Aren’t we just having a nice conversation? It’s very important to work through childhood trauma in a healthy way, and what better way to do that than to relive the experience.’ 

Xue Yang seemed disinclined to agree, battering at Jin Guangyao’s head and shoulders with his free hand. Jin Guangyao squeezed tighter, twisted his wrist further, and pain and unconsciousness threatened, stealing strength from the blows. Xue Yang’s smile was a feral snarl now, the expression of an animal comprehending the trap in which it finds itself. He squeezed until the prisoner slumped, barely conscious, and his hand fell limp, and then locked the wrist manacles to rings set into the wall. 

‘There you go,’ Jin Guangyao said, so close his breath stirred the hair at his brow. ‘I knew you were clever, almost as clever as me. You understand now, yes?’ He released most of the pressure on his throat, and Xue Yang wheezed in several breaths, clarity and malice and calculation returning to his eyes. His face was a pretty shade of red. 

‘You want to break my hands?’ he asked. ‘The Jin Clan wants vengeance for the Chang Clan, perhaps? The foremost cultivation clan in the world, bringing righteous vengeance on behalf of the least and most pathetic? Truly, your nobility is dizzying. How you haven’t ascended to immortality yet, I cannot guess.’ 

Jin Guangyao smiled and shook his head. ‘I can think of nothing that would bring me greater sadness than ruining you,’ he breathed, not entirely honestly. ‘You are an artist with these hands and you apply yourself with a single-minded intensity that I enjoy. But I do need you to understand your position here.’ 

‘My position,’ Xue Yang said, and curled his leg around Jin Guangyao’s again. ‘My position is a little uncomfortable, and my fingers are really quite painful.’ He pulled experimentally at the chains to ascertain how much movement he had and then grimaced. ‘I can’t even lie down like this. How am I supposed to get any rest?’ 

‘That is rather the intention, I’m afraid,’ Jin Guangyao murmured. His hand was still on Xue Yang’s warm throat and he hadn’t moved back. Heat radiated from the prisoner’s skin into the chill of the room and he basked in it, ignoring the sharp sting in his shoulders from Xue Yang’s attack. It wasn’t as if he’d been thrown down the Carp Tower steps, after all. Barely a few scratches. 

‘I can be good to you,’ Xue Yang said softly. His other leg came up to frame Jin Guangyao’s hips. ‘So good.’ He strained against the hand on his throat, and Jin Guangyao permitted him to lean a little closer until they breathed each other’s words. 

‘I don’t doubt it. The Jin Clan has need of a man of your talents. What we can’t have is you getting … creative without our permission. If you’re going to work for us, we need your loyalty.’ Carefully, he loosened the breaker on Xue Yang’s right hand, releasing the pressure of the screws against his knuckles. He shuddered in what might have been relief. 

‘Is that better?’ Jin Guangyao whispered. ‘Did I hurt you?’ 

‘Yes. And yes,’ Xue Yang whispered back. ‘You should probably make it up to me. You know, if you want me to do the Jin Sect’s dirty work.’ His calves tightened, pulling Jin Guangyao’s hips closer. 

‘Mm,’ Jin Guangyao breathed, so close that each word was accompanied by the ghost of Xue Yang’s mouth against his. ‘First you were going to be good to me, but now I have to make it up to you? The Jin Clan does not appreciate indecisiveness.’ 

Xue Yang leant up just a little more, and Jin Guangyao let his hand slide slowly from his throat around the back of his neck. He turned his head so Xue Yang’s lips landed on the corner of his mouth instead. ‘Believe me, me being good to you and you making it up to me can be … mutually beneficial.’ Xue Yang’s mouth drifted down to nibble at his jaw and his calves tugged again, closer still. 

‘Is this how Wen Ruohan secured your services? Or was it Wen Chao, perhaps, with his oily little personality and his oily little hands? Did he do this to you, too? Did you want him to?’ 

Xue Yang recoiled, his mouth leaving Jin Guangyao’s jaw. ‘You’re really sick, you know that?’ he asked. ‘Wen Chao?’ He shuddered theatrically and rattled his manacles. ‘Just break my hands already, rather than make me picture that.’ 

Jin Guangyao flashed his dimples again and pulled Xue Yang’s head back to his jaw. The man came willingly, bolder now, secure in himself and his charms and Jin Guangyao finally brought his other knee onto the bed. Xue Yang wriggled so that his thighs were wrapped more snugly around his hips and Jin Guangyao set his other hand to his stomach, running fingers over the multitude of bruises. ‘What did they promise you, then, to make you their dog?’ he murmured as Xue Yang began to kiss the curve of his throat. He didn’t answer; Jin Guangyao dug his thumb into a bruise. ‘Tell me.’ 

Xue Yang groaned and the kiss became a searing bite; he responded with more pressure against the bruise. ‘You don’t want to play this game,’ he warned, gripping tighter at the nape of his neck. 

Xue Yang groaned again and then laughed. ‘Don’t I?’ he asked, somewhat breathlessly, and shifted against Jin Guangyao, feeling his growing arousal. ‘But you’re enjoying it so much.’ 

‘Why become their dog?’ he asked again, finding another bruise and jabbing his fingers into it. Xue Yang arched against him, a stuttered moan breaking from his lips. Jin Guangyao forced his head back against his throat. ‘I didn’t tell you to stop.’ 

‘Meng Yao, has anyone ever seen this side to you?’ Xue Yang gasped against his neck, pressing a line of kisses down to his clavicle. He tried to nose aside the material and failed. ‘Ah, I want my hands free. Tell me though, am I the first to get so much sweet attention?’ 

Jin Guangyao loosened his inner robe and Xue Yang pushed his head inside to continue kissing. ‘There have been a few,’ he said reflectively, staring at the cold, damp rock against which Xue Yang was pressed. 

Xue Yang paused and looked up at him, grinning. ‘And how many lived to tell the tale?’ He didn’t answer. ‘Then I really will have to be good to you,’ he said. ‘I could be better if I had my hands free.’ 

‘You don’t need your hands free,’ Jin Guangyao said and shoved forwards to bring himself further onto the bed, pulling Xue Yang’s hips into his lap, taking care to dig his fingers into bruises as he did. The man groaned again and licked his lower lip. ‘Tell me why you sided with the Wens.’ 

Xue Yang panted against the skin of his chest for a moment. ‘If I’d known then what I know about you now, I’d have sided with you,’ he said. ‘Against them all. The two of us. What do you think, could we have done it? Killed them all and ruled the cultivation world? Ascended to immortality on a mountain of corpses?’ 

Jin Guangyao was silent and Xue Yang wriggled in his lap. ‘Take my fucking trousers down, will you? What are you waiting for, permission? I’m the one chained to a fucking wall here, I didn’t think consent was a part of this. But if you need it, you’ve got it.’ He tilted his head, sly. ‘And if you don’t need it, aiyah, Meng Yao, then I’m hoping everything is as thick as your face.’ 

‘I’m waiting for your answer,’ Jin Guangyao repeated calmly. He yanked Xue Yang away from his chest, pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck hard enough that the crown of his head cracked into the wall. The prisoner grunted at the impact and then grinned and he leant in, pressed his mouth to his ear. ‘Why side with the Wens?’ 

‘Why does it matter?’ He writhed in Jin Guangyao’s lap again, his arse grinding into his erection and Jin Guangyao felt heat flood his belly and chest. He tightened his grip in his hair and ground his thumb into a particularly vicious bruise with all of his strength. 

The groan became a definite mewl of pain this time – not good pain. ‘Alright, alright,’ Xue Yang panted, flinching. ‘You want to know why I sided with the Wens? They indulged me. They let me do what I enjoy doing and they protected me from retribution, from all you oh-so-noble fucking sects with your rules and pretty robes and sanctimonious rituals. They were a screen between me and everyone who is so afraid to indulge their desires and can’t bear to look into the face of someone who will. No one wants to look at me and see themselves, so they pretend outrage and horror, when secretly, all of them envy me.

‘Wen Ruohan looked at me and saw himself. He liked that. I liked that.’ He looked up from beneath his lashes. ‘The question is, Meng Yao, what do you see? Do you see yourself, or do you see the monster?’ He giggled. ‘Aren’t they just the same thing?’ 

Jin Guangyao gave him his most serene smile as he slowly, slowly increased the pressure on that same bruise again. Xue Yang shifted restlessly, visibly torn between leaning into and away from it. 

‘Are you afraid to indulge your desires, too?’ he gasped, despite the clear evidence to the contrary. ‘To take what’s offered; to take what isn’t offered just because you want it? Don’t you want to know what it’s like to just. Let. Go?’ 

Jin Guangyao leant forward, his belly brushing Xue Yang’s erection and his hands slipping below his hips to ease his trousers down. Xue Yang shivered, his eyes slipping closed. ‘About fucking time.’ He smiled that dangerous smile again and touched the tip of his tongue to one pointed canine. ‘I thought you’d never get here. I thought you were a lost cause.’ 

Jin Guangyao smiled, too, as he unfastened his inner robe and slid down his own trousers. ‘Oh no,’ he murmured, spitting into his palm and wetting himself. He licked a finger and pressed it in, slow and unhurried. Xue Yang tensed and then relaxed, a long groan easing between his lips. ‘You really don’t know me at all.’ 

The chains rattled as the prisoner tried to reach for him, propped awkwardly between the wall and Jin Guangyao’s body. Jin Guangyao’s free hand slid up his stomach, pressing at the bruises, and then up his chest to his throat. He dug fingers and thumb in either side of his windpipe as if preparing to tear it out and worked his finger faster, enjoying the wheezing gasps vibrating against his palm. 

‘And here’s me thinking you did it to get the Yin Iron,’ he murmured as he slipped in a second finger. Xue Yang tensed and arched his back, supporting himself with his head and shoulders against the wall. 

‘Ah,’ he gasped. ‘Wondered how long it’d take you. That what’s this is – ah! – really all about, isn’t it?’ 

‘Of course,’ Jin Guangyao murmured. ‘Why would it ever be about anything else?’ His fingers paused their motion and Xue Yang moaned. ‘Do you have it?’ 

‘Well, it’s not where you’re searching right now,’ Xue Yang said and sniggered, the sound cut off by the abrupt tightening of Jin Guangyao’s hand on his throat. He squeezed hard enough to cut off his air, watching carefully for the moment of unconsciousness, then loosened his grip and resumed moving his fingers at the same time, stroking firmly against his prostate.

Xue Yang mewled. ‘Ah. Ah! _Fuck.’_

‘Tell me you have it.’ 

‘No.’ 

Jin Guangyao pushed in a third finger. ‘No, you won’t tell, or no you don’t have it? Be clear.’ 

‘Both. Neither. Just don’t stop. Fuck me, Meng Yao. Fuck me properly, right now.’ Xue Yang’s eyes were black pools above the flush staining his cheeks, his bitten lower lip. ‘Now,’ he demanded again, pressing his hips upwards.

‘Answer my questions first,’ he crooned, ignoring the molten heat in his belly. He tightened his grip on the man’s windpipe again and concentrated on rubbing circles with his fingers. Xue Yang choked off a moan as he unravelled. ‘Do you have the Yin Iron?’ 

‘Do … do you have the self-control?’ Xue Yang replied, but his hips were rocking and he was straining down onto his fingers with increasing desperation.

Jin Guangyao cocked his head to one side. ‘To walk away from this?’ he asked and again his fingers stopped moving. Xue Yang let out an unmistakably frustrated sound and did his best to shove himself onto his hand. ‘Oh, Xue Chengmei, you really don’t know me at all. And you were doing so well.’ He withdrew his fingers and pushed up off the bed, pulling his trousers back up and leaving Xue Yang’s down around his knees. The man was flushed, cheeks to cock, dishevelled and panting and wanting. 

‘What?’ he tried, pressing his thighs together and rattling the manacles. _‘What the fuck?’_

Jin Guangyao retied his inner robe. ‘When you’re ready to talk, you let me know,’ he said and then reached down and put the key back in the hand-breaker and tightened it until Xue Yang had stopped panting and started swearing. Noting how many turns it took for pleasure-pain to become hurt-pain. More than he was expecting, being honest. But he liked that about him, liked seeing how much he could take. He needed to know if he was to break him, after all. He did the same to the other, not taking his eyes from Xue Yang’s the whole time.

‘You’re not,’ Xue Yang said as he crossed back to the door. He stared down at himself in disbelief. ‘Not really.’ 

Jin Guangyao glanced back and gave him his warmest smile. ‘I’ll send someone in to tighten the breakers once an hour. You let them know when you’re ready to talk and they’ll send word to me. And when you are, when you’re ready to give me everything, well,’ he gestured at the painful flush of Xue Yang’s cock, ‘maybe we can do something about that.’ 

‘Then bring some fucking oil when you come back,’ Xue Yang said. ‘I’ll be so good to you, you won’t even remember your own name.’

If he’d hoped to entice him back to the bed, back to his body, he was unsuccessful. Jin Guangyao closed the cell door on a wailed expletive and let out a shaky, silent breath. Then, methodically, he redressed, each item a layer of protection, of disguise, until the animal that was Meng Yao, twin to the one living in Xue Yang, had vanished and Jin Guangyao stood serene and smiling in its place. He exited the room and the guards bowed. 

He handed the key to Su She. ‘One turn every hour, both hands. Other than that, he’s not to be touched, despite how you’ll find him half-undressed.’ He let disgust cross his features. ‘He’ll try anything, so be careful. Find me when he’s ready to talk.’ 

He expected it would be half a day at most, but Xue Yang was nothing if not full of surprises. There was always the possibility he’d allow his hands to be broken, but Jin Guangyao didn’t think so. Xue Yang was nothing if not selfish. Anticipation tightened his stomach, but for now he had business with the sect leader. Adjusting the sit of his hat, he swept out of the dungeons and back up to the fresh, bright air of Carp Tower and his other, more mundane, duties.


	2. Persuasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He smiled when Xue Yang surged against him, the kiss deep and bruising and threatening to push him off-balance. He tasted of hate and cruelty and a bright, shining joy that stood out like gold in mud. He tasted like a promise no one had ever made to Jin Guangyao, a promise of acceptance – all of him, every part of him – known and embraced. Even the animal. Especially the animal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to MsNyx for the excellent squeeing and beta read!

The sun was setting over Lanling, weeping tears of blood into the sky, before Su She found him and told him the prisoner would talk. Jin Guangyao was impressed, though he merely smiled at his subordinate and took the key for the hand-breakers back from him. Then he finished up his paperwork, spoke to some of the servants to ensure Jin Xiongzhang’s requirements were met, and made his slow way down through the layers of Carp Tower to the cells. 

He went through the same process again, leaving the guards outside the preparation room and removing his outer clothes. He hung the key back around his neck and fingered the small pot of oil he’d brought with him, a small, hungry smile lifting one corner of his mouth. Then he pressed himself against the cool wood of the cell door and listened for a long time. It was silent within. Experimentally, he made a few sounds, stamping a bare foot, muttering under his breath. Immediately, there was corresponding noise from within: rattling chains, whimpers of pain. 

Jin Guangyao laughed silently and opened the door, pausing on the threshold to take in the scene. 

Xue Yang was huddled pitifully in the centre of the bed. He’d managed to at least pull his trousers back up to cover himself, and now he sat cross-legged with his hands against his chest and his head hanging, face covered by the sprawl of black, untidy hair that really could do with a wash. He looked up slowly as the door opened and Jin Guangyao was quietly delighted at the tear tracks on his face. Xue Yang was a true master. 

‘You’re awake this time,’ he observed as he closed the door and padded across the cold stone, hands behind his back. ‘That’s a first.’

Xue Yang watched him miserably. ‘It hurts too much to sleep.’ There was a hitch in his voice. Jin Guangyao could have applauded. 

‘You’ve done very well,’ he said soothingly. ‘You really have lasted a long time. But you’re going to tell me about the Yin Iron now, aren’t you?’ 

‘Can you take these off?’ Xue Yang asked and Jin Guangyao noticed the sweat on his brow. Perhaps it wasn’t all fake, after all. The prisoner’s fingertips were pale with lack of blood, the flesh between the bands and the backs of his hands dark with bruising. He expected the little finger that had been broken so long ago was particularly troublesome.

Jin Guangyao sat next to him on the bed. ‘Soon,’ he promised, and placed the small pot of oil on the floor with a faint _chink._ Deliberately. Obviously. 

Xue Yang’s eyes found it and then raised to his face. ‘What’s that?’

Jin Guangyao gave his slowest, lazy-eyed smile. ‘You asked for it,’ he said softly and the double meaning in his words wasn’t lost to either of them. 

Xue Yang shifted restlessly on the bed. He held out his hands. ‘Take these off?’ he asked. 

‘Tell me about the Yin Iron.’ 

The prisoner pouted. ‘Wen Ruohan has it.’ 

‘Not all of it. Wen Chao had a piece. And then … he did not. What did you do with it?’ 

‘Why would I have it? I have no interest in Yin Iron. I just want to cause a little mayhem, have a little fun.’ With the last word his shoulders slumped and his expression became so beseeching it would have stolen the anger from a fierce ghost. ‘Why don’t we have some fun, Meng Yao? You and me?’ 

‘I am afraid my duties to my clan and sect must come first.’ 

Xue Yang tutted. ‘What a terrible host,’ he said, flashing a dimple of his own in a lightning-quick change of mood. ‘I thought your guests are the ones who come first? I nearly did, you know. Until you stopped.’ He leant sideways until their shoulders touched and turned to speak into Jin Guangyao’s hair. ‘I’m not often impressed, Meng Yao. Congratulations.’ 

Jin Guangyao smiled. ‘You honour me,’ he said, tilting his head slightly. The prisoner took the hint and nuzzled into his throat. ‘Tell me about the Yin Iron.’ 

‘Take these off and I’ll make sure you come first _and_ second.’ The words were muffled. 

He took the key from around his neck and Xue Yang sat back and grinned. ‘Did you notice there’s a slot above each finger?’ he asked, taking his left hand and pressing his thumb into its back until the breath hissed from between his teeth. ‘It’s so that pressure can be applied to all the knuckles, or just one in particular.’ Xue Yang went very still as he slid the key into the slot over his little finger. His useless finger. ‘I’m curious. Is there any sensation left in this one?’ he asked and twisted the key a half-turn. 

Xue Yang _screeched_ and wrenched backwards, but Jin Guangyao was ready and followed, pivoting on the bed to crush him up against the wall and then holding him there with his shoulder. He hadn’t let go, fingers digging into the muscle of his wrist deep enough for his nails to draw blood. Xue Yang panted around the constriction of the shoulder in his chest, whimpers rolling from his mouth. 

‘That would be a yes, then,’ Jin Guangyao mused. ‘I really wasn’t sure.’ 

Xue Yang’s canines flashed as he managed a grin, the strain evident from the cords standing out in his neck. ‘You’re good at this. I really wasn’t expecting such … _creativity._ Did you learn it from the Wens?’

Jin Guangyao laughed softly and twisted the key again and Xue Yang howled some more. ‘I’ll take that as a no,’ he gasped and lunged forward to kiss his ear. ‘But you’re probably a little too close,’ he hissed and wrapped the chain from his right wrist manacle around his throat and dragged it tight. 

Jin Guangyao twisted the key again, and again, and again, and once more until the prisoner was thrashing too much to strangle him, and then he slid out of the chain and back, allowing him to collapse down onto the bed again, his left hand clutched tight to his chest until he took it gently and loosened the screw again until Xue Yang’s curses had faded to deep, shuddering breaths. 

He wiped away the sweat and tears on Xue Yang’s face with his thumb and then left his palm against his cheek and squatted down. ‘Just talk to me, Xue Chengmei. Tell me about the Yin Iron. You said you weren’t interested in it, so why not tell me where it is? This all stops when you tell me.’ He tapped the breakers and got a definite flinch and felt a small bloom of delight in his chest. ‘Tell me and these come off. Give me your loyalty and I’ll give you Jiangzai and a target.’ Slid his hands up his thighs. ‘Give you what you want.’ 

‘What are you going to do with it?’ he whispered and Jin Guangyao smiled and loosened one of the bands by a half-turn. 

‘It would be dangerous for Wen Ruohan to have all the pieces. LanlingJin is the foremost sect in the cultivation world; of course we must protect it.’ He stared placidly into Xue Yang’s eyes. 

‘And … learn to use it, perhaps?’ he asked, earning another smile and another loosening of the breaker. ‘Now that,’ Xue Yang whispered, shuffling to edge of the bed and bending down to bring his face close to Jin Guangyao’s, ‘is something I can get behind. You wouldn’t trust something like that to Jin Xiongzhang though, would you?’ he murmured and sighed when the breaker loosened a little bit more. ‘You’d do it yourself. Protect the sect leader from any taint of scandal, as any good son and disciple would.’ 

Jin Guangyao stared into black eyes and then dropped his gaze to watch Xue Yang run his tongue over his teeth. ‘Jin Xiongzhang would never sully himself with such matters. They would fall to someone of no consequence. But if that person could achieve it, he would perhaps be able to convince the sect leader that the prisoner’s death sentence be commuted to life in prison. And from there, well, perhaps some small freedoms? Perhaps complete freedom – in return for loyalty? In return for … creating a little mayhem.’

He smiled when Xue Yang surged against him, the kiss deep and bruising and threatening to push him off-balance. He tasted of hate and cruelty and a bright, shining joy that stood out like gold in mud. He tasted like a promise no one had ever made to Jin Guangyao, a promise of acceptance – all of him, every part of him – known and embraced. Even the animal. _Especially_ the animal. 

He steadied himself with one hand on the man’s thigh and then dropped his knee to the cold stone. One of those sharp eyeteeth caught at his upper lip, but he accepted the sting without hesitation, pushing back, kissing back, as the key turned and turned until the prisoner let out a muffled whimper of relief, tangling with another a second later of want. 

He pulled back enough to see what he was doing as he slotted the key into the next band. ‘All I need from you,’ he said, his voice unruffled and giving away none of his inner heat, ‘are two things.’ 

‘Mm?’ Xue Yang mumbled as he licked at his jaw and ear and shifted forwards even further, right to the edge of the bed and locking his legs around Jin Guangyao’s hips again. ‘My cock and my mouth, right? Take them; they’re yours. They’re ready for you. _Aching_ for you.’ 

Jin Guangyao controlled his need to shiver, his need to press forward into the heat of those legs, the heat of that body. Jin Guangyao was always in control; he wouldn’t let this beautiful, unhinged maniac undo years of discipline. ‘I need your loyalty. And I need the Yin Iron.’ He tightened his grip on the hand between his, pressing lightly with his thumb in unspoken warning. ‘I don’t want to hurt you’– the prisoner pulled back, one side of his mouth curving wickedly as he raised an eyebrow –‘any more than you enjoy it,’ he added and it was Xue Yang’s turn to shudder, his eyes darkening even further with that promise. He bit his lower lip and Jin Guangyao felt an answering twitch low down in his belly. 

‘But I will do whatever I have to. _Everything_ I have to. Maybe even everything I _want to._ ’ He accompanied the last words with a slow roll of his hips and Xue Yang sank closer, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he sucked in a breath. 

‘Meng Yao,’ he whispered eventually, ‘why did we never meet before this? Aiyah, so much time I wasted with the Wens when I could have been with you. Killing for you. Writhing under you.’ He leant in again and caught Jin Guangyao’s bottom lip between his teeth and sucked it into his mouth, biting gently, tonguing against it, and then let go. 

‘Your loyalty and the Yin Iron.’ His voice was mild, unruffled, giving no hint of the heat coursing his veins or the shuddering in his lungs. 

‘Yes,’ Xue Yang said simply. 

Jin Guangyao held his gaze until he was convinced, ignoring the small smirk growing across the prisoner’s face at his regard. Then, with practised ease, he loosened the breaker from his left hand and removed it completely. Xue Yang groaned and dropped his head to gaze at the blackened flesh and hissed out a breath as he slowly curled his fingers – except for the little one – into a fist. ‘Fuck, that feels good.’ He flexed his hand a few times, hissing as the blood reached his fingertips again, and then reached up and ran his palm down Jin Guangyao’s cheek, rubbing his thumb over his lips before forcing it into his mouth. ‘But that feels better. Mm, good.’

Jin Guangyao accepted the thumb pressing on his tongue as he concentrated on loosening the other breaker, leaning closer at the insistent tug of Xue Yang’s legs around his hips. They touched at groin and belly and Xue Yang’s fingers tightened around his ear and he pushed his thumb deeper. The other breaker loosened and he slid it over dented, blackened knuckles. He met Xue Yang’s eyes and pulled his thumb from his mouth. ‘Your loyalty?’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘The Yin Iron?’ 

‘Yes, yes.’ 

‘Don’t make me hurt you more than you can stand,’ he warned. 

Xue Yang laughed and slid both hands up to cup his face. ‘That would be difficult,’ he bragged and licked the tip of his nose. Jin Guangyao didn’t doubt it would be difficult, but if this didn’t go the way he expected and wanted it to, he looked forward to the battle to come. Even restrained, Xue Yang would be formidable. Beautiful in his blood and violence. 

_‘Promise me murder,’_ Xue Yang breathed, tightening his grip. 

‘I promise.’ 

He shuddered, his eyelids fluttering. ‘Fuck me, Meng Yao, and I’ll give you the Yin Iron.’ 

Jin Guangyao dropped the breakers and scooped the pot of oil off the floor and put it on the bed, then pressed forwards, sliding his hands underneath the man’s thighs and locking them in the small of his back. He lifted Xue Yang up and pressed him into the wall, settling himself on his knees on the bed and then lowering him to straddle him. Xue Yang moaned. 

‘Give me the Yin Iron, and I’ll fuck you.’ 

He saw Xue Yang hesitate, but he’d proven his credentials when it came to self-control once already. ‘Fine,’ he said and bent down to whisper in his ear, biting it when he finished speaking. 

Jin Guangyao smiled. ‘Interesting,’ he said. ‘Might even be true.’ 

Xue Yang was shifting restlessly in his lap, the chains from his manacles clinking against the wall. ‘It’s true. I swear.’ 

‘Perhaps I should make sure first,’ Jin Guangyao murmured, gratified at the look of desperation in the man’s face. He rocked his hips lightly, pressing him back into the wall, and Xue Yang gripped his shoulders and ground against him desperately. ‘Or perhaps I should trust you.’ 

‘Yes, trust me, trust me,’ he groaned. ‘I’ll be so good to you. Kill for you, torture for you. Fuck you any way you want.’ He slid one hand into Jin Guangyao’s hair and the other down to feel his hardness. ‘Mm. Make fierce corpses for you.’ 

Jin Guangyao grabbed his hips and stilled him. ‘You can do that?’ 

Xue Yang hesitated. ‘Well, no. Not yet. But I can definitely provide the corpses and we can go from there, ah?’ 

Jin Guangyao smiled, and it was neither gentle nor serene. Xue Yang matched it with one of his own, animal to animal, lighting a fire in Jin Guangyao that might never go out. Their depravity touched, clung, held. Like recognising like. 

‘Fuck me, Meng Yao,’ he demanded again. ‘Fuck me and leave me chained up here with breakers on my hands while you go and fetch the Yin Iron in case I’m lying. But fuck me. Now.’ 

Jin Guangyao rocked his hips again and Xue Yang’s breath stuttered. ‘That seems … reasonable,’ he acknowledged, and eased the man’s trousers down his thighs. 

‘Thank the gods,’ Xue Yang breathed, his eyes closing and his head tipping back against the wall. Then it jerked up and he glared. ‘You’re not going to leave me like this again, are you?’ he began, but Jin Guangyao’s fingers, slick with oil, were already busy and the words choked off into a gasp. 

He thought about it as his fingers worked, about leaving him here gasping and wanting and writhing again – he’d looked so pretty in his fury, eyes glittering above flushed cheeks and swollen lips – but Jin Guangyao’s genius was in knowing when to punish and when to reward. Besides, the idea of leaving him chained and hurting while he fetched the Yin Iron was … compelling. And if he was lying, well, hand-breakers really were only the start. 

Xue Yang was shuddering already and Jin Guangyao put his hand against his cheek and pushed his head sideways until he was looking away, held it there against the wall with more force than necessary and slipped a third finger in, hard. There was a sound part-yelp, part-moan, and Xue Yang reached blindly for him, tearing at his inner robe. ‘Fuck me.’ 

_'Say please.'_

Xue Yang stilled and Jin Guangyao wondered whether such a word had ever passed his lips before. He dug his fingers a little deeper, coaxing, felt the body against his _ripple_ , from thighs upwards. He increased the pressure against his face, grinding his head into the wall, grinding his fingers up inside him as the flames in his spine began to lick higher. 

He leant close, clothed chest against naked chest, and felt the jump of the ribs beneath his. His fingers stroked harder. ‘Say please.’ He bit the neck that moved convulsively as Xue Yang swallowed. Gentle. Teasing. Licked up the length of it. Another shudder. Let his fingers still within him. ‘Say it.’ 

‘Fuck you.’ It was a whisper, strangled. Jin Guangyao bit him again, harder, drawing a groan and a buck of the hips, but no more words. He slid his fingers out and he sat back with a sigh, then began to shift out from under the man’s twitching thighs. ‘Wait.’ 

Jin Guangyao stopped and, with Xue Yang unable to see with his head pressed against the wall, he untied his inner robe, eased his trousers open and dipped into the pot again, slicking himself up. He smiled, waiting, his belly thrumming pleasantly. There was a long silence and he wondered whether he’d have to leave him like this again, after all. 

Xue Yang licked his lips and then flinched when Jin Guangyao drifted a finger up the inside of his thigh. ‘Fuck.’ His exhalation was shaky. ‘Meng Yao.’ 

‘You have something to say?’ he asked, low, and his finger began to rub circles again. Xue Yang ground himself down, but he moved his hand with it, denying him. ‘Say it and I’ll give it to you. Give you this,’ and he pulled Xue Yang’s hips forward so the head of his cock was pressed tight against him. Again the grind and shove; again the refusal. 

‘You can say it like this, or you can look me in the eye and beg. Which would you prefer?’ he asked conversationally, and began to reduce the pressure on Xue Yang’s head. As expected, the man capitulated. Pleading while looking at him was too much for his pride. He wanted what Jin Guangyao could give him, but he wasn’t one to willingly humiliate himself. No, he would have to be forced to do that. Have to be forced to admit that was what he wanted.

_Half the pleasure is in the surrender, after all. In being owned. Used._

_Broken._

‘Well?’ 

‘Please.’ It was barely a whisper, barely even a word, but it was there. The first step on a long road, and Jin Guangyao knew when to punish – and when to reward. He let go of his face, dug his fingers into Xue Yang’s hips and bruises, and pressed forwards. Smooth and steady and without pause, giving him no time to adjust – and Xue Yang’s curse came out on a whimper as he took and took, his eyes fluttering closed and his damaged hands locking tight, one on the back of Jin Guangyao’s neck, the other in the flesh of his waist. 

He slid in, and then forced Xue Yang down onto him as he flexed up, watching the other man’s face and the flush already staining his cheeks, how tightly he bit his lower lip. He pressed closer, allowing Xue Yang’s cock to rub against his belly, and then began to move, a tight, deep rhythm that pulled Xue Yang’s very soul out of his body. 

Xue Yang’s head came off the wall and dropped onto his shoulder, breath hot against his skin, fingers bruising in the back of his neck. He moved willingly, elegantly, the chains clinking with each thrust, a chiming counterpoint to the suck of flesh and gasping mouths. A long, low moan eased against the flesh of Jin Guangyao’s throat, and that was all wrong. It was too controlled, and Xue Yang didn’t deserve such control. Jin Guangyao decided to break it. 

He locked his hand around his throat and began to squeeze, pushing him back off his shoulder. Xue Yang’s hand came up to clutch at his wrist and he gripped hard until he got the message and let go. He panted shallowly, his eyes glazing and face pinking and now the moans were high and stuttered as Jin Guangyao wrapped his free arm around his waist and slammed him down as he thrust into him, teeth gritted as heat chased ice through his spine and the pleasure built. 

Xue Yang’s eyelids fluttered, his breathing harsh and wheezing and too shallow, and while there wasn’t a plea in his face, there was an … acknowledgment that he needed to breathe. The hint of a surrender that would buy him more air. Jin Guangyao let him see that he’d seen it and chosen to grant it, chosen to give him air, and then he let go and snaked his arm up his back to grip his shoulder instead, pulling him closer and gaining more leverage to haul him even deeper onto his cock. 

Xue Yang’s head tipped back and he sucked in air and sobbed it out with each thrust and, as Jin Guangyao found a little more violent strength, a cry broke from his mouth, and so he did it again, snapping his hips up as he dragged him down, forcing the noise from him again and again until the cell almost echoed with it and Xue Yang was scoring his back with his fingernails and then, right there, as his body began to tighten, he grabbed Jin Guangyao’s hair and wrenched his head back, forcing him to meet his eyes as a startled, involuntary moan broke from his lips. 

‘Harder,’ he choked. ‘More. Harder.’ And then, soft and desperate, _'please.'_

Jin Guangyao ground out a strangled _‘fuck’_ and tightened his grip and slammed him down, giving him everything as hard as he could, two, three, four, five times, and Xue Yang wailed and tightened further, taut as a bowstring and then he came, and came, and came, and Jin Guangyao fucked him through it and out the other side, until he was over-stimulated and crying out with every thrust and tears shone in his eyes from the brutal pace. And then, and only then, did Jin Guangyao release his control and come inside him, hard and silent but for a long, shuddering moan muffled by the teeth he sank into Xue Yang’s shoulder.

Slowly, Xue Yang’s bruising fingers released their grip and he eased up in Jin Guangyao’s arms, sliding off him, his thighs shaking. Sweat tracked through the bruises painting his ribs and stomach and he shifted to the side and slumped against the wall, panting, his eyes closed. ‘Fuck. The fucking Wens never did _that._ ’ 

Jin Guangyao slid to the edge of the bed and tidied himself, using the hem of his shirt to wipe Xue Yang’s come from his stomach and then retying his inner robe, striving for control and the semblance of indifference as he willed his breathing to steady and his legs to hold him. He stared down at the other man, at the lazy, satisfied half-smile on his face, eyes closed as if he lounged in the most luxurious surroundings. 

Jin Guangyao retrieved a breaker and slotted it back over his knuckles. Xue Yang didn’t notice at first, not until it began to tighten, and then his eyes snapped open and he tried to pull free. 

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ 

Jin Guangyao gave him the wide, innocent smile his father and Jin Zixun loathed so very much. The smile that no one could disbelieve, no matter how suspicious they were. The smile that was Jin Guangyao’s greatest weapon. ‘What you asked me to. Leaving you here with breakers on your hands while I fetch the Yin Iron.’ 

Xue Yang stared at him in shock, and he took the opportunity to fit the other one on and tighten it. And then the prisoner threw back his head and laughed. ‘Aiyah, Meng Yao, but you are _perfect._ But hurry back, lover,’ he added, rattling the chains against the wall and bringing one foot up onto the bed to rest his arm upon as Jin Guangyao crossed to the door, the key and the pot of oil in his hands and the sweat of sex and the stickiness of come tightening his skin. ‘We have so many things still to do. And you have a promise to keep.’ He drew his trapped hand slowly, lavishly, across his throat. 

Jin Guangyao spared him a final look: hair curling damply against his brow, a hectic flush staining his cheeks and his dimple in full view, his limbs loose and posture nonchalant. He’d cracked, but he hadn’t broken. Jin Guangyao’s stomach tightened at the thrill of it, at how much further they still had to go. The possibilities seemed endless. 

‘Be good,’ he said as he opened the door. 

Xue Yang winked and blew him a kiss. ‘Sweetheart, when am I not?’


	3. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘You need this,’ Xue Yang gasped. ‘Need to learn how it feels to have no choice. You’re always in control, aren’t you, Meng Yao? That’s what makes you feel good.’ The robe fell from his shoulders and the shirt followed it and Xue Yang licked a long stripe up his cheek. ‘Learn to surrender and you can control the Yin Iron.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to MsNyx for the beta!
> 
> This hits very close to dubcon/non-con, so please be aware.

In his secret heart, the one the world would – could – never see, Jin Guangyao was … discomfited.

The Yin Iron was small and light, confusingly adorned with patterns that defied the eye, and yet, although it was small and light, it weighed on him. Changed him. Whispered to the animal inside, begged to be used alongside his golden core, screamed to be released. And such promises it made him.

By the time he returned to Lanling, Jin Guangyao was exhausted, anxious, and deeply uncomfortable. Not one of these things showed upon his smiling face as he bowed to Jin Xiongzhang. He presented the pouch in both hands and waited.

‘You have it, then? The dog wasn’t lying?’

Jin Guangyao ducked his head a little more. ‘Yes, Sect Leader. The final piece of the Yin Iron is yours. Congratulations on your success.’ From what he could see of Jin Guangshan’s legs, the man was disinclined to take the gift. He didn’t blame him.

‘And … you say we can learn to use it?’

‘Your possession of it gives you many advantages, Sect Leader. Wen Ruohan’s ultimate strength will now never be reached; his puppets are fallible and can be killed. Your prominence within the cultivation world – and that of the Jin sect – will grow as you protect this relic from those who would seek to claim it. And if its power can be harnessed to bring an end to QishanWen, surely your name – and you – will live forever.’

‘And what secrets of the Yin Iron did you learn while you wriggled on your belly for the Wens? While you committed atrocities and simpered and flattered?’

Jin Guangyao’s smile only increased in size as he held position. ‘Forgive my incompetence, Sect Leader, but very little. While I did many distasteful things in order to gain Wen Ruohan’s trust, it did not extend so far as discussion of the Yin Iron.’ He paused, delicately. ‘If I could perhaps beg a last audience with the prisoner before his execution, I may learn one or two of his secrets. From there, well, I will work diligently to discover the rest myself.’

The Sect Leader was quiet, thinking, and Jin Guangyao was content to let him be so. Neither the grace of his expression nor his posture flickered. ‘Stand up.’ He straightened and smiled, kept the Yin Iron in its pouch outstretched in humble offering. ‘The prisoner knows its secrets?’

‘More than I do, that is certain, Jin Xiongzhang. I have hope he will divulge them before his execution.’

‘Not good enough. I need all his secrets.’

‘I will endeavour to discover them. Although,’ he paused again and let his brow crease with mild distaste, ‘I find myself dishonoured on your behalf, being the foremost cultivator of the world, Sect Leader, that the other sects would so impose their own will upon you as to require you to execute your own prisoner. Who are they to make demands of Jin Xiongzhang himself? Forgive my speaking so; I know your reputation would bear no blemish. Of course it is their own fear of the man that rules them, and in your wisdom you bow to such emotion to maintain harmony among the sects. It is truly a privilege to see the grace with which you navigate the world, Sect Leader, even when they question your decisions. That you allow them to command you in this is a privilege to witness. Please rest assured that I will do all I can with the prisoner before the sects again demand his death. With your permission, Sect Leader, I will take my leave.’

‘Wait.’ Jin Guangyao met his eyes for an instant and was pleased with what he saw there. He smiled again, tilting his head in unspoken question. ‘You think me ruled by them?’

Jin Guangyao bowed low. ‘Not at all, Sect Leader. That you have chosen to acquiesce to their demands shows great forbearance on your part, that you would sacrifice whatever this man may teach us to appease the other sects. It shows your greatness of spirit, that you would give in to their childish fears at your own expense. I have learnt much from your handling of this great opportunity.’

_I have learnt how not to be sect leader._

‘I swore the man would die.’

‘You swore that he would no longer be a threat,’ Jin Guangyao said smoothly. ‘Which could mean death. Or it could mean he spends the rest of his life in the cells in Carp Tower. Where he might be of some small use to you, unlocking the secrets of the Yin Iron to destroy QishanWen for good and bring LanlingJin into the sun as the foremost cultivation clan.’

‘You want him to live?’

Jin Guangyao smiled. ‘I want only to serve you, Sect Leader, in any way – every way – that I can. There are many tasks that are beneath your honour, and those it is my honour to perform.’

‘Take the Yin Iron to him and learn its secrets. He will not die before he has spilt every one.’

Jin Guangyao’s dimples flashed as he bowed low. ‘As you command, Jin Xiongzhang.’ He left the Glamour Hall and descended through Carp Tower as if he did not crave a bath and food and a warm bed.

The guards outside the preparation room were only distantly known to him, the murmur of their voices drifting down the corridor as he approached and alerting him to their lack of discipline. His ever-present smile took on a decidedly frozen cast and the guards took one look at his face and bowed low.

‘You have been following my orders regarding the prisoner during my absence?’ he asked, accepting the key from them.

‘One hour each day without the breakers to allow him to wash and eat. As you commanded, Jin-gongzi.’ He hesitated, and then bowed again.

‘What? Speak.’

‘Additional orders were given, Jin-gongzi.’

Cold prickled along Jin Guangyao’s spine. ‘Get me Su She, now. I will have an explanation.’

‘Su She is not here, Jin-gongzi,’ the same guard replied, almost mumbling. ‘He accompanied Jin Zixuan on a night hunt and has yet to return. The additional orders came from Jin Zixun.’

The cold seeped into his gut and his limbs, a creeping anxiety that had nothing to do with Xue Yang’s wellbeing except in how it might affect their work with the Yin Iron. ‘Explain.’

They did, and Jin Guangyao listened, and breathed, his hands and shoulders and face relaxed, the animal within screaming and rattling the bars of its cage. He remembered how Xue Yang had flirted with Jin Zixun when first brought here in ropes, how he’d humiliated him. He’d known exactly what he was doing and that Jin Zixun couldn’t bear the dishonour, and now his retribution had found him. Jin Guangyao found that he didn’t like the thought of Jin Zixun standing over the prisoner and laughing. 

He strode between the guards and into the preparation room, ignoring their palpable relief that he ordered no punishment. That could wait. He was tempted to retain his outer clothing this time in his hurry, but appearances were important to cultivate the right atmosphere and a few more minutes weren’t going to make any difference anyway. Besides, Xue Yang’s tolerance for pain and humiliation had a depth he had yet to measure, and it was entirely likely Jin Zixun’s little game didn’t have as much effect as he was hoping.

And of course, now he got to be Xue Yang’s saviour. He paused after placing his hat on the neatly folded outer robe and smiled. Perhaps this wasn’t a disaster after all. He unlocked the cell door and swung it open. Xue Yang had been lying down, curled tight into a ball against the chill, but he shot upright as the door opened and scrabbled backwards on the bed, clamping his hands between his thighs. Jin Guangyao hesitated; there was clear, unfeigned panic in Xue Yang’s face. It was gone in a flash when the prisoner recognised him, and immediately his body uncoiled, assuming a relaxed pose that Jin Guangyao didn’t believe. And he could do nothing about the pallor of his skin or the sweat sheening his brow.

‘Ah, you’re back. Has it really been a week already? Aiyah, that’s a shame. I’ve been having such fun with your … cousin, isn’t he? You look weary; if you’d rather, we can pick this up in the morning.’ There was just the barest hint of strain in his voice, and his now filthy and torn shirt served more to highlight the bruises layered one on top of another than conceal them. There were clear finger marks pressed into his throat, and Jin Guangyao knew they weren’t his. Jin Guangyao didn’t leave bruises unless he meant to. 

‘Is that so?’ he asked, drifting closer. The cold stone prickled at the bare soles of his feet, sending little shudders up through his calves.

Xue Yang shrugged elaborately, but his usual feral smile was missing its accompanying expressive gestures. Instead, his hands were held very carefully at his chest, and Jin Guangyao could see the thin rivulets of dried blood that had run from beneath the bands of the breakers. The bruising had extended all the way to his wrists now, his hands thick and swollen.

Still, appearances were everything with this one, so Xue Yang didn’t need to know the depths of his rage. ‘Jin Zixun tells a very different story,’ he improvised. ‘He assures me that my orders were followed but that your behaviour has been … challenging and required discipline.’

Xue Yang scrambled to his feet, chains clinking. Jin Guangyao didn’t flinch at the sudden move, his inner animal surging up in joyful response to the challenge even as he wondered if Xue Yang would ever use his hands again. The air thickened between them.

‘And here’s me thinking we were friends now,’ the prisoner murmured. ‘After everything we shared – all your promises; all my secrets. _Everything_.’ He held up his hands and Jin Guangyao couldn’t help but note how they shook. He didn’t think that was part of the act, because Xue Yang actually blushed and pressed them to his chest to still them. ‘You said you’d leave me in the breakers. I _asked_ you to leave me in the breakers. You didn’t say you’d actually break my hands. Meng Yao, wasn’t I good to you? Didn’t I promise you my loyalty and the Yin Iron? And yet you send that Jin cousin in here. I’m surprised, really. If you wanted to torture me, why weren’t you here to see it? We both know you’d enjoy that.’

‘You provoked Jin Zixun.’ It wasn’t a question.

One corner of Xue Yang’s mouth curved and he looked up from beneath his lashes. ‘I think he might have finally worked out that he was the only one I didn’t offer to fuck and now he’s jealous. Or neglected. Part of me wishes I’d done it; that way I could compare Jin cocks and techniques. Oh, don’t worry sweetheart, I’ve no doubt you’d outmatch him in both size and stamina. That cousin looks like a premature ejaculator if ever I’ve seen one. And so he attempts his revenge.’ Xue Yang shrugged, as if it was no concern of his. As if the clammy waxiness of his skin wasn’t apparent, or the bird-quick beating of his pulse in the hollow of his throat. 

‘Let me see your hands.’

A tiny hint of hesitation, no more, and then Xue Yang grinned and arched his neck, light and teasing, and shoved both hands playfully into Jin Guangyao’s chest, almost masking the flash of pain as he did so.

A slow heat was building in Jin Guangyao’s belly. He’d thought Xue Yang restrained and uncomfortable was compelling. This was … more. None of it showed on his face, of course. Instead, he let a sympathetic frown and a slight pout form. ‘Hmm. These are really quite tight. How long have they been like this?’

‘I get out of them for an hour a day – your orders, I presume? Thought so. At least I get to eat and shit and wash that way. And then they’re tightened every other hour of the day and night. They’re not too bad at the moment.’

The lie was so smooth that Jin Guangyao was tempted to believe it. Tempted to play along. After all, if they weren’t too bad, he could leave them on. He met Xue Yang’s eyes. ‘Don’t lie to me.’

Xue Yang touched the tip of his tongue to the point of a canine and put his head on one side. ‘They’re not. Only five turns since they were fitted back on. Come back in twelve hours if you want to see them really doing what they were made for.’

He could have applauded the bravado. Instead he took the key from inside his inner robe and smiled when Xue Yang went very still, his breath rough and then suspiciously even. Calm, unhurried. He had to be wondering, though, trying to work out which way he’d turn the key. For one heady moment, Jin Guangyao himself didn’t know and he almost licked his lips in anticipation.

He fitted the key in one of the bands and held Xue Yang’s gaze. And then he twisted and Xue Yang shuddered out a breath as the breaker began to loosen, something small and afraid flickering in his eyes before it vanished.

‘Ah, Meng Yao,’ he whispered, shifting as close as he could without interrupting the turning of the key between them, ‘you really are the best of LanlingJin. I look forward to the day you are sect leader.’

He smiled. ‘I live to serve my sect, not to lead it,’ he murmured and looked up just as the key twisted for the last time, drinking in the flicker of pure gratitude that crossed Xue Yang’s face as he gently slid the breaker off his hand. He threw it behind him and began work on the other. He could feel Xue Yang watching him, his gaze a physical weight that heated his belly further, but he didn’t meet it, noting instead how the now-free hand opened and closed very slowly, very stiffly. Noting the hitch in his chest as he inhaled against the promise of tears.

‘Anything broken?’

‘Not … quite.’

‘Good.’ The hand slid across Jin Guangyao’s belly and found the ties of his inner robe. He stopped turning the key, captured the hand and pressed his lips to bleeding knuckles, swept his tongue out to taste copper and iron and bruised bone, and then put it gently on his shoulder. ‘Let me concentrate.’

Xue Yang pouted. ‘I don’t want you to concentrate. I want you to fall apart. I want you to lose all that control. A week, Meng Yao, without you in me. That was the worst torture.’

Jin Guangyao smiled. ‘Such pretty words. And such pretty colours I see beaten into your skin. I’m not sure you could cope if I truly lost control, Xue Chengmei. Though I have no doubt you’re beautiful when you cry.’

The hand curled around the back of his neck, sweeping below his hair and dipping into his collar. ‘You underestimate me, Meng Yao. That hurts my feelings. Besides, you’ve seen me cry.’

Jin Guangyao laughed quietly. ‘Have I? I have seen you perform, but I’m not sure how much of it was real.’

Xue Yang dragged his thumb down the side of Jin Guangyao’s ear. ‘About as much as yours, I should think,’ he murmured. His head dropped as the other breaker finally came off and he stood still, one hand gentle on Jin Guangyao’s neck, the other slowly curling and uncurling. Three deep, shuddering breaths and then he closed the gap between them, slid his thumb under Jin Guangyao’s chin to lift his head, and bit his throat.

Jin Guangyao was about to grab his hair and pull him away when Xue Yang paused and took in a deep breath through his nose, his face pressed to his neck. ‘Ah, so you do have it. I can smell it on you, Meng Yao. I can _feel it_. How is it, sweetheart? Does it speak to you yet? Does it make promises?’ His free hand drifted lower and scuffed across his robe and he moaned softly. ‘Mm, is that caused by my pain or the Yin Iron’s power?’ He laughed softly and the heat in Jin Guangyao ignited into flame. ‘It doesn’t matter, I suppose. But oh, that power. It’s inside you now. So if you were inside me…’

The Yin Iron whispered and commanded, it painted images of blood and pleasure across the back of Jin Guangyao’s eyeballs until they were impossible to separate. Images of Xue Yang weeping on his knees before him – of _himself_ weeping on his knees – and he wanted it, wanted all of it, and he wasn’t aware of grabbing Xue Yang’s left hand and squeezing as hard as he could until the man screeched and did in fact fall to his knees, tears welling at the corners of his screwed-up eyes as he panted through the pain, hand cradled against his collarbone.

The sight took his breath away until he was dizzy, possibly not thinking clearly for the first time in a long time, because against all good sense, he unlocked the wrist manacles from the chains secured to the wall. And then he untied his inner robe, stepped out of his trousers, and pulled Xue Yang’s tear-stained face forward and buried his cock in his mouth.

Xue Yang choked and Jin Guangyao groaned and tightened his hands in his hair, thrusting into his wet heat, moaning some more when those bloody, damaged hands came up to frame his hips and his tongue began to move. Jin Guangyao looked down and the tears were still there, glittering in the low light, but the man’s eyes were fixed on his even as he struggled to match his breathing to the rhythm, and they were intense and amused despite the shadow of hurt. He thrust harder to make the amusement fade. How could Xue Yang laugh at him with his mouth full of his cock? He thrust all the way into his throat a few times and then jerked free.

‘Ah,’ Xue Yang gasped, his voice hoarse and tangled, ‘now you understand. The Yin Iron knows your desires, Meng Yao, it knows your secret needs.’ He forced himself to stand again, shaking, his eyes pools of hurt and lust. ‘And I did say I wanted to see you lose control.’ He hissed as he fitted his right hand around Jin Guangyao’s throat and squeezed, and Jin Guangyao dug his thumb into it to break his grip, eliciting another scream, and used the leverage to turn him and dump him on his belly on the bed. The tail of his shirt rode up and there were more bruises patterning over his kidneys, abrasions across the bumps of his spine, and he ground his knee into the small of his back to hold him still and dragged his trousers down with one hand as he found the tiny vial of oil in his sleeve.

‘Who’s in control now, Meng Yao?’ Xue Yang’s voice was muffled. ‘You or the Yin Iron? Or me?’ His laugh was a wheeze as Jin Guangyao pressed him down harder with his knee, grinding it into his battered flesh. ‘You’d – you’d like to think it’s you, wouldn’t you?’ he panted. ‘Always so afraid to … surrender.’ He writhed and tried to buck against the weight holding him down as the first slick finger shoved in with barely more than an instant’s warning.

‘Shut up,’ Jin Guangyao warned him and shifted his weight so he was between the man’s spread thighs, his free hand locked around the back of his neck.

Xue Yang pressed back against his finger. ‘Not even a kiss first this time,’ he croaked. ‘The Yin Iron’s got you in its claws now. Ah!’ The second finger went in with as little care as the first and Jin Guangyao was panting as if they were in him, furious and desperate and somewhere, even deeper inside than the violence and the animal, he was afraid.

‘I wonder if you’ll learn to control it,’ Xue Yang continued, though his voice was shifting into a lower register now, blurred with pleasure, ‘or if you’ll be as mad as Wen Ruohan before it destroys you.’ His words stuttered at the addition of a third finger and his hips began to shift against the thin mattress. ‘Ah, good, yes.’

Jin Guangyao hissed, furious, and worked his fingers faster. ‘Shut up,’ he said again, and Xue Yang hitched out a laugh that trailed into a whimper.

‘That anger you’re feeling, that resentment? _Ah_ , that’s so good.’ He tried to raise himself but the hand on his neck tightened. ‘That anger, Meng Yao? It’s not yours. You’re not in charge here, not in this room – _fuck_ – not in this situation. Not even of your own body.’

Jin Guangyao was shaking as he pulled his fingers out and leant down to hiss in Xue Yang’s ear. ‘I told you to shut up,’ he growled. ‘Or do you want me to make you?’ He reached down and guided himself in, a long slow penetration that made them both shudder.

‘Yes, make me,’ Xue Yang stuttered. ‘Shut me up, Meng Yao. Shut me up hard.’

Jin Guangyao fucked him, fury and frustration hotter than the pleasure. He wanted – needed – to hurt Xue Yang, but the man had tucked his hands under his chest where he couldn’t reach them, so he yanked on his hair and jabbed his thumb into bruises and shunted his hips forward as hard as he could, but all he got were whimpers and moans and, ‘more, sweetheart, yes, gods yes, _harder_ ,’ until he was shaking with rage and his pleasure was further away than ever. Slowly, his hips stopped moving, sweat dripping onto Xue Yang’s filthy shirt as he panted against his back.

‘Shit.’ He jerked free of Xue Yang’s body and sat back on his heels.

Xue Yang drew up his legs, losing his trousers in the process, turned and stood. ‘Told you,’ he said, ‘you’re too busy fighting the Yin Iron.’ Jin Guangyao lunged for him, teeth bared. Xue Yang slapped his hands down, grabbed him by the shoulders, ran him backwards into the far wall and slammed him against it. ‘The trick,’ he hissed as he burnt kisses and bites across his ear and jaw and mouth, ‘is to know when to give in to it and when to control it. When to accept the flow of energy and when to guard against it. Even when you accept all the humiliation and punishments dealt you by the Jin, that’s _your choice_.’

Jin Guangyao couldn’t breathe or think, couldn’t do anything but respond. The next time that mouth landed on his, he kissed back, teeth banging together, sharing tongues and spit and breathing in each other’s moans.

‘You need this,’ Xue Yang gasped. ‘Need to learn how it feels to have no choice. You’re always in control, aren’t you, Meng Yao? That’s what makes you feel good.’ The robe fell from his shoulders and the shirt followed it and Xue Yang licked a long stripe up his cheek. ‘Learn to surrender and you can control the Yin Iron.’

Jin Guangyao’s hands were on his waist, pulling his hips forward as his own shifted to meet them. The pleasure wasn’t distant anymore; it was bright and sharp and close and he needed it, needed to make the anger go away. Needed to be in control again. He tried to turn them so Xue Yang was pressed against the freezing stone, but he resisted.

‘So you’re going to give up control to me and then, afterwards, we can pretend it’s you in charge again. But you’ll know, deep down – _deep inside_ – that it’s not true. And you’ll crave it, your dreams haunted with the memory of giving in. Surrendering to me.’

Even after weeks in this cell, and despite his battered hands, Xue Yang was stronger, and his words, ridiculous as they were, were breathed against his mouth and throat and uttered between a string of kisses and bites that stole Jin Guangyao’s breath and almost his will.

‘You don’t know me,’ he tried, and then he was on his back, cushioned by his robe and shirt, and Xue Yang was reaching back between his own legs to gather oil onto his fingers.

‘I bet you’ve never done it this way, have you? I bet your need to control every interaction means you’ve never allowed yourself to be taken. Consider this a necessary education.’

Jin Guangyao struggled but Xue Yang pushed him back down and then began licking and biting his neck again and the fire inside was burning higher despite the bone-deep fear of letting go that had dominated every moment of every day since he’d been a boy.

Despite the violence of his mouth, Xue Yang’s fingers were gentle and not unpleasant, and the combination was both disconcerting and satisfying. It didn’t take long before the first finger slid in and he tensed at that, gasping, and Xue Yang’s expression turned feral as he kissed him again, nibbling at his lower lip until Jin Guangyao bit him back, hard, and raised his hips for more. He could still control this, wait for a moment of distraction and he’d flip them back over and finish fucking Xue Yang, because _he was in charge of_ –

His next breath came out as a high whine as the second finger slid in.

‘Such pretty sounds,’ Xue Yang murmured and introduced a third finger almost immediately and this time the noise was louder, strained. ‘Give in,’ he encouraged in a low growl. ‘Give up. Give it all up to me.’

‘No.’ Despite the denial and the initial burn, his back was beginning to arch off the cold stone and his hand was fisted in long black hair. An image of him kneeling for Xue Yang, mouth full of his cock, sent fire along his nerves and he arched further, making the prisoner swear and pull him closer until his hips were in his lap and his ankles locked in the small of his back.

And then the fingers fell still and withdrew, replaced seconds later by smooth, rounded heat that pressed forward inexorably. He was about to protest when his body gave way to it, and the denial became a thin keening sound.

‘That’s it. You have no control. Nothing but what I give you.’ Xue Yang’s voice was hoarse as he kept on filling and filling until Jin Guangyao thought he couldn’t take any more but he did, took his whole burning length and then began choking out sounds with every thrust. Too much. Overwhelming. And somehow not enough.

Jin Guangyao opened his eyes and reached for Xue Yang to pull him down, closer, into what he didn’t know. An embrace? An attack? The prisoner evaded his hands easily, his own, bruised and bleeding, gripping into his thighs. ‘I’m in charge,’ he said and shunted his hips forward harder. ‘The only thing you get to decide is how easily you surrender.’

‘I won’t,’ he gasped and the smile that crossed the other’s face made him want to take back the words, made him want to curl up and hide.

‘Oh, sweetheart. I so hoped you’d say that.’ He lifted Jin Guangyao’s hips and drove into him again, hard enough to hurt – and somehow not hard enough. He did it again, and again, and Jin Guangyao knew he was holding back still and the knowledge filled him with a black delight that both terrified and thrilled him. His hand went to his cock and he got three strokes in before Xue Yang let go of his thighs and grabbed the hand. He leant forward, the change in angle making Jin Guangyao’s breath catch as that hard, bruised stomach pressed against his aching length and he ground upwards and took the next thrust with his head tipped back and his mouth open.

Something cold pressed against his palm but the next thrust was deeper, and the next even deeper and he could barely breathe, let alone think. And then something clamped around his fingers and he opened his eyes. The breaker, the one he’d thrown behind him when he took it off Xue Yang. But it didn’t matter, because he had … his free hand groped across his chest and neck. The key was gone. Somehow, the key was in the breaker and Jin Guangyao made a desperate grab for it but Xue Yang bucked his hips so hard he saw stars, driving into him relentlessly as he tightened the breaker and the first dull ache bloomed in the knuckles.

‘Ah.’

‘I fucking knew you’d like that,’ Xue Yang breathed and twisted the key with each thrust until ache became pain. ‘Let’s see how much.’

‘No,’ Jin Guangyao said. ‘No, that’s enough.’

Xue Yang forced his hands above his head and fucked into him so hard the words stuttered to a halt. ‘I say what’s enough. You are not in control, Meng Yao. Surrender.’

‘Never,’ he whispered.

Xue Yang’s smile was all animal. He took the cord off the key and tied his wrists tightly, then tightened the breaker four more complete turns until he was bucking with the pain of it – true pain – and Xue Yang rode the movements and thrust in hard until he couldn’t think or breathe or decide which sensation was the biggest.

An infinity later, he hauled Jin Guangyao up and reversed their positions, forcing him down into his lap and the altered angle, the weight of his own body pressing him down onto his cock was too much to bear and he almost screamed. He tried to lift up and away and Xue Yang wrapped one arm around his waist and the other around his back and wouldn’t let him, grinding him down as he thrust up until the sounds he made were piteous and pleading and completely overwhelmed.

‘Give up.’ Xue Yang bit his throat and slammed him down again and Jin Guangyao was crying and trapped and helpless and _fulfilled_ and _ashamed_ and _desperate._

‘No,’ he choked out.

‘Say, “A-Mei, I surrender”.’

‘No.’ The word was a stuttered wail as he was slammed down and slammed into at the same time and stars burst across his eyes and in his spine and his cock rubbed on Xue Yang’s stomach and he was going to come, nothing could stop it and he didn’t need to surrender, he could have this anyway. He rocked his hips forward, pressing his length against that hot skin and biting at a shoulder as a shudder rippled through him –

And Xue Yang stopped. Stopped moving, stopped guiding him. He leant back so there was no contact with his cock and just sat there, breathing heavily, flushed and sweating. Calculating. Jin Guangyao’s eyes opened and he stared into the infinitely hungry, ravening depths of Xue Yang’s want and pulled on his neck with his bound hands, trying to drag him closer. He resisted. He bucked his hips and Xue Yang’s hands tightened on them, stilling him. He whined, needy and pathetic and embarrassing.

‘Say it.’

‘No.’

‘I promise nothing will feel so good as giving up control to me. You’ll come so hard, sweetheart, when I let you.’

Like a locked door suddenly opened, the words were there, bright and jagged on his tongue. He opened his mouth and Xue Yang encouraged him with a slow roll of his hips and Jin Guangyao wondered if he could delay speaking long enough to come. He pressed down and immediately Xue Yang stilled him.

‘Ah, not without the words.’ He licked into his mouth. ‘I gave you what you wanted. Now give me what you need. Give up. Surrender.’

‘I -’

Hands tightened on his hips. ‘“A-Mei”,’ he reminded him and Jin Guangyao closed his eyes against the shame and the want and the hateful little smile curling Xue Yang’s beautiful, fuckable mouth. The anger was still there, the resentment building with each second his orgasm was denied him.

Xue Yang lifted Jin Guangyao’s bound hands from around his neck and twisted the key again, savagely fast, tightening it three times until he was howling.

 _‘Say it,’_ Xue Yang roared suddenly and Jin Guangyao flinched and reared back. ‘Give me everything. Now. _Do it._ ’

His control shattered. ‘A-Mei, I surrender,’ he sobbed, his chest flooding with humiliation.

Xue Yang slid his fingers into his hair and then pulled back on it until his face tilted up. ‘Look at me.’ He gave his head a little shake. Jin Guangyao closed his eyes. ‘ _Look at me._ ’ He did. ‘Never forget what surrender gives you.’

And he pressed him down onto his cock again and drove up at the same time and it was so sudden Jin Guangyao choked out a keening wail, another as a hot belly pressed against his cock and he was fucked so thoroughly and so hard he thought he was being split in two. Not even the deep, wrenching pain in his hand could distract from his impending orgasm.

‘A-Mei, I want to come.’

‘Not yet.’

‘A-Mei, please.’ Xue Yang groaned and dragged him down even harder. ‘ _Please!_ ’

‘Yes,’ Xue Yang gasped. ‘Come now. With me. Now.’

It only took three more thrusts once he had permission and Jin Guangyao was tensing and shuddering and writhing, coming against Xue Yang’s stomach and then Xue Yang was straining up inside him, cock twitching, and heat coated his insides and teeth closed on his shoulder and a string of muffled curses stuttered from his mouth.

They stilled. Breathed. Came back to themselves. And then Xue Yang eased him up off him and shoved him away. Jin Guangyao fell onto his side and lay there, panting, until the prisoner stood and slid into his torn shirt. He bent and retrieved the Yin Iron pouch from the sleeve. ‘Let’s get to work.’

Jin Guangyao rolled onto his knees, his breath hissing at the ache and burn inside him, at the slow seep out of him. His wrists were still tied; his hand still sparkling with pain in the breaker. ‘Was any of that real?’ he asked quietly and Xue Yang looked up from retying his discarded trousers.

‘Any of what?’

_The way you made me feel. The way you gasped “A-Yao” when you came. The look on your face when I gave you everything._

‘This supposed method to control the Yin Iron,’ he said instead.

Xue Yang came back and knelt at his side. Silently, he undid the cord around his wrists and let him loosen the breaker himself. ‘All real,’ he promised. ‘All of it.’


End file.
